


Summonings

by FujurPreux



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is in distress, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujurPreux/pseuds/FujurPreux
Summary: Sometimes, you just want to summon a demon to carry out your evil deeds but get an angel instead. And then, the demon gets angry.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 167





	Summonings

Crowley rolled his eyes when “Unknown Caller” appeared on his phone’s screen. Sometimes, he did regret having made telemarketers a thing. No one else could’ve found out that number he had chosen himself and given only to Aziraphale except for them and that randomizer machine whose design he had encouraged. Ah, well. The price to pay for a job well done. 

Normally, he would have rejected the call, but since he had no plans for the rest of the evening, he might as well use the time to embitter someone’s day. Thus, he reclined on his chair and answered.

“Hello, there!”

“Crowley. Hi,” said Aziraphale from the other side. He sounded nervous. Unsure. This meant that at least today he wasn’t a Mighty Hammer of Righteousness and the call’s purpose wasn’t to scold him.

“Aziraphale! Good to know you finally learned how to dial!”

Aziraphale scoffed, which brought a fond smile to Crowley’s lips. “I’ve known how to dial for a long time, thank you! It’s only those… those things with the screens and the blinking… I actually had to insist a lot to get a normal one for this.”

Crowley sighed. “Right. Why are you calling? Did they inaugurate that tea house you wanted to visit?”

“Not yet. They keep pushing it. At this rate, it might never happen and that’s a shame because the menu looked so good. Yes, yes, I’m on it!” he added with a hushed voice as if he had covered the microphone. “Rush doesn’t really help anyone.” Then, he uncovered the receiver and continued. “As I was saying—”

Crowley straightened up. “Angel, is there anyone else with you?”

“Um.”

“ _Aziraphale_ …”

“Yes. Yes, there is. Someone. That is the point. Of the call. Listen.” He took a performative deep breath and Crowley twisted his tongue inside his mouth to stop himself from telling the angel to stop stalling. “I’m calling you because it is possible that I might be in a bit of a predicament,” Aziraphale said in the end.

Crowley frowned. “What kind of predicament?”

“It’s embarrassing, really. For everyone involved. There’s— there is this young man who in trying to summon a demon, miswrote a couple of sigils and summoned me instead. So now I’m trapped inside a circle and I can only leave once I’ve fulfilled a list of tasks.”

“So do them,” Crowley said even if he knew what the response would be.

“I can’t! They are misdeeds! Sins!” Once again, the muffled receiver. “Yes, they are! Don’t you give me that look!”

Crowley grunted and rubbed the back of his neck. Demon summoning was less common than most people believed. The materials were hard to find and the sigils had to be traced with millimeter precision. To make a mistake that could confine a being with Aziraphale’s rank, the summoner would have to be a genius. Either that or he had found the treaty Crowley wrote while drunk that one night during his Sturm und Drang phase. 

“Fine, then. I’ll do it,” the demon declared, simply.

“What?” Aziraphale replied.

“The tasks. Dictate the list. I’ll do them for you.”

“Absolutely not! I will not stand for evil deeds being done in my name!”

“Why did you call me, then?”

“Because I had to do something,” Aziraphale said. Then, he lowered and softened his voice. “And because your number is the only one I remembered.”

Before Crowley could say anything in return, Aziraphale yelped and it sounded like the phone was being dragged on the floor. After a few seconds, a different voice sounded through it.

“Are you the demon?”

Crowley cracked his neck and became the poster child of professionalism. “Yes, I am the demon. With whom am I speaking?”

“Irrelevant. Here is the list of tasks I want you to do or I’ll never set my prisoner free!”

“He’s an angel! Why would you think I care?”

“Because—” But no reason followed. Because most people would never be able to think of one. 

Crowley wasn’t most people. He hardened his voice. “Listen here, you little brat. I have little patience for your kind. But what I do have is a particular set of skills. Skills that make me a nightmare for the likes of you.”

“Like— Like what?”

“Glad you ask.” One second later, Crowley stood in front of that wannabe of a magic practitioner after traveling through the telephone network. His snake eyes were wide open and his forked snake tongue danced in front of his mouth. “Like this!”

The failed summoner screamed and tried to run, but the demon caught him by the collar of his shirt and made him turn around. 

“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere. Break that circle. Now.”

Shaking, the summoner fell down and scratched the floor until enough traces of the sigils had disappeared. Aziraphale observed the process with apparent equanimity, but Crowley knew him well enough to know he wanted to bounce in excitement. 

“Ah, that’s much better,” the angel said as he stepped out from there with dainty steps and straightening his tweed jacket. Next, he turned around to lecture his former captor. 

Crowley took advantage of the fact to discreetly grab and hide the piece of parchment on top of the table next to all the magic utensils. He’d destroy it later; no one would have to know it had ever existed. 

“…and I am confiscating these too,” Aziraphale finished, going to the table and grabbing the remaining books. “Now, stay there and reflect on what you have done.” There was a small nod in return, which satisfied him. He smiled and then he turned to Crowley. His smile grew. “Thank you for that.”

“Don’t mention it. Or, alternatively, mention it every day for the next few centuries.” He miracled his shades into his hand and put them on. “Are we done here?”

“We are.”

Aziraphale started walking outside the building and Crowley followed.

“So,” the latter said. “If that tea shop hasn’t opened yet, why don’t we go to that other fancy one with the piano?”

“What a wonderful idea! I need to make a stop at the bookshop first to put these where they can’t be used again.”

“Can’t you miracle them there?”

Aziraphale pouted. “I want to go check on things.”

“Ah. Fine. First stop, your bookstore.”

The angel smiled again and his steps grew brisker.

The demon shook his head and turned around the corner to see his Bentley waiting. As he opened the door, he realized that, on top of all, he had indeed embittered someone’s day by answering that phone call. Fantastic. Happy endings were his favorites.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired [by this prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/hpbvf8/wpyou_accidentally_summon_an_angel_instead_of_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x).


End file.
